I hope for her
by cacticabbage
Summary: Post 4x24. One-shot. My take on how Jack could come into the picture. It's a bit different, but bear with me. Densi heavily implied.


Monday morning. Contrary to many people, I love mornings, particularly after a night long rainfall when even a big city like LA can smell unfathomably clean and fresh.

I head to my favorite coffee-shop, order my non-fat latte and smile at Rheda behind the counter. She smiles back at me and I can see the light in her green eyes. Man, I should really get my shit together and ask her out, as Kevin keeps saying.

She tells me to have a good day and I think I will. There is something hopeful in the air.

I'm one of those people who actually like their job. Crazy, I know. But what I do is personal to me and I feel like it's important and helpful.

Some days aren't that easy for me. Some nights I still wake up covered in sweat and feel like I'm in Fallujah again. But that's when my work helps me so much. When listening to others helps me heal.

I sit down in my office, enjoy the remnants of my coffee and review some case-files. Kevin comes in and hands me a new file. A Cop. Tortured during a case. He's scheduled to come in at 10. We then discuss our weekend. Kevin shows me a picture of his daughter, little fishing pole in hand, smiling brightly. Kevin beams. He leaves and I begin to read the new case-file.

Turns out this cop is actually a liaison with NCIS. The case is pretty intense. The police detective had been tortured because he wouldn't give up the identity of a CIA agent. This agent was also the wife of one of his co-workers who had also been tortured.

Soon it's ten o'clock and I get up and go to the waiting room. "Martin A. Deeks?" I ask. A blonde man gets up and comes toward me. "Jack Harris, I'm your counselor", I say. "Pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Marty Deeks" he replies and we shake hands.

We go back to my office and I begin to explain to him how his therapy will look like.

I see all kinds of people suffering from PTSD, some are incredibly angry, some terribly subdued, some stoic, some emotional. Marty Deeks seems to be somewhat in the middle of that spectrum. His demeanor appears "normal" but the scars around his mouth suggest that he must have went through hell. The dark circles around his eyes tell me that he's not sleeping well at night.

We don't directly talk about the torturing, most patients don't want to do that, at least not immediately, during their first session. We talk about his daily routine prior to the torturing. And then I tell him what's most important. Not to be ashamed of the condition he's in right now and to never shut out the people who want to support him. I know this very well from painful first-hand-experience.

He tells me that since he's been released from the hospital he's been living with his work-partner and that he feels safe around her but that he's afraid of burdening her. I tell him that he has talk to her about what he feels.

He gives me a sarcastic laugh, a sad laugh and winces because his rips aren't fully healed yet. "Yeah… we're not big on talking about what we feel or what we want form another….. it's a complicated thing". He gives me a weak smile.

The therapist-side of me immediately senses a problem. To recover mentally you absolutely needed to depend on a stable support. I tell him and he explains. "It's not that we don't trust each-other, in fact I trust her completely and I know it's vice-versa. And I'm pretty sure she cares about me as much as I care about her ..." A genuine smile appears on his face "… it's just…there's something between us that we don't talk about and …. It's just the way it is."

He rubs his hand over his jaw and suddenly looks incredibly tired. "Well, maybe she can come in with you" I suggest. "Yeah, right. She's not a shrink person" He laughs. "Plus I'm not here about my girl problems I just need my PTSD-crap fixed, thank you very much". "Mr. Deeks, solving one issue might only work if the other one is solved as well", I tell him.

Our time is up and I prescribe him some light sleeping pills and invite him to come to the park at four. We have a new program were we try to encourage our patients to come for a walk in the park so they can get some fresh air and meet other people in the same situation.

I now this seems dumb and it's probably the last thing most of the patients want to do and it does sounds awkward but I know it helps. I've seen how well it works.

After my lunch-break and two more therapy-sessions I head over to the park. 9 patients came today, including my new one, Mr. Deeks.

We all go for a nice walk, the patients have a chance to talk to people who are in the same place as them and they can also enjoy some fresh air and aren't confined to their apartments. After that we usually do some light stretching, those who are physically capable then go for a jog with Kevin.

A dog comes running to me and I pat him. Mr. Deeks joins me and we start to talk about our dogs. He has one too, his name is Monty.

Sometimes I find it very insightful to talk to my patients outside of the therapy-room. Mr. Deeks has to wait for his partner to pick him up and so I tell him about Rover, my dog. He seems genuinely interested and like a real dog-enthusiast.

He winks at a woman approaching us and I figure, judging by his smile, that she must be his partner. I begin to tell him about this one time when Rover ate a sponge when I notice just _how familiar _this women walks. And then I notice the brown wavy hair and by then she's close enough for me to distinguish her features.

It's her. It's undeniably her.

She stops short in her tracks and just stares. "Kens?" I hear Mr. Deeks call, he sounds a bit confused, understandably so.

_Kensi._

She starts walking toward us again, slower. As if to delay the moment. And then she arrives. She looks at me, " Hi Jack" she breathes. It sounds incredulous. Her eyes flick over to Mr. Deeks and when she looks at him it's with an expression I never saw before, one I can't read or place. I look at her.

_Kensi Marie Blye_.

She's even more beautiful than I remember. Or maybe she's gotten more beautiful since I last saw her.

I force my lungs to start working again and choke out a "Hello Kensi, how.. how have ya been?" And then I want to kill myself because who am I to ask her that. "I mean I don't mean it like that… I'm … I. It´s not my place to ask, I'm sorry". By the end I just mumble and feel defeated. I look to the ground and I'm pretty sure my head is burning read. She clears her throat and says that she's fine. Mr. Deeks shifts to his other foot. She lifts her head and looks at me. "Your, your uhm hair is longer" she observes. "Yeah I, I let it grow out". Suddenly she turns to Mr Deeks. "Deeks, this is Jack. Jack, that's Marty Deeks, my partner".

"Kens, he's my therapist", Mr. Deeks says quietly, he looks down.

"What? You're a shrink?" She turns toward me.

"I think I'm gonna wait in the car", Mr Deeks mumbles and walks away.

Kensi looks after him and I don't know what to do. I've thought about this moment – seeing Kensi again - so many times. I thought I've pictures it in any way possible. Angry, horribly awkward, even happy. Yet, right now the only thing I sense is that there is something, maybe longing, in the way Kensi looks at her leaving partner.

Then she tears her gaze away and our eyes meet. She inhales and then she says " You don't know how glad I am that you're alive!" She averts her gaze and looks past me. Suddenly every strength leaves my, I almost fall and I sit down on the little railing behind me. She sits down next to me and I exhale "Kensi, I am so, so incredibly sorry. I… I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you.

"Jack", she whispers. She draws out the a like she used to.

"You don't have to be sorry. I mean you do, because you hurt me, you hurt me so much. But you don't because …" She takes a deep breath, looks at me and I can see her tears. "You, don't because you had to. I understand that now, that you had to leave". She puts her hand on my knee "I'm sorry you had to suffer. I'm sorry I couldn't help you"

Her voice quivers. I take her hand. "Kensi, its not you who couldn't help me. I was the one who didn't allow your help. I pushed you away when I really shouldn't have. You did everything you could. I know that." I realize that there are tears in my eyes as well.

"Where did you go after you.. you know...went away? She asks.

I owe her the truth, she deserves it.

"I drank to much. Until I hit rock-bottom. ER and everything. I had a horrible mandatory psych-session and the shrink gave me a card of a facility. I hitch-hiked there. After a year I was better. I finished my college-degree. And then I trained to become a counselor. And I've been doing that since." I shrug.

"Does it help you? Helping others who go through the same?" she asks.

"So much" I reply.

"You seem to be in a good place" she states. Genuine, matter-of-factly.

"Kenis, I called you, I wanted to apologize, I wrote, but you had changed your number and moved. I mean understandably. Just … I wanted to apologize earlier", I stammer and I hate that it sounds so feebly.

"Yeah, I moved. I ,uhm, I'm an agent with NCIS, I couldn't stay in the same apartment. Security protocol and everything."

She looks ahead and then she says "Jack if you regret leaving, please don't. I mean it hurt like hell but maybe it was for the best. You're in a good place and I'm to" Her head drops down. "I mean, I was. Before he.." She points to the direction where Deeks left. ".. before he, ... this happened to him. I need him to make it out of this"

She looks down and she really cries now. I wrap my arm around her. And suddenly I understand. This countenance from before that I couldn´t decipher, this longing look she sent him.

"You love him." I observe.

"I do." She whispers and sighs.

I'm not jealous. Not only that I have no right to be but I really am not. My heart constricts because I'm certain he loves her back but he's my patient and I can't tell her.

"Kensi, he'll get better. I know he will"

She gives me a weak smile and wipes her tears away. "I hope. God, I hope so much."

I hope so too. I hope for her, I hope for them.

We get up and we hug. Long and firmly. When we break apart she asks "Hey, you need that ring back?" "No. I mean if you don´t want it you don't have to kee.." "Oh thank god", she interrupts me. "Because I had an angry phase after you left and sold it to a pawnshop!"

She smirks and I smile back.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It´s December. Christmas is coming. I'm exited. My first Christmas as a dad. My wife and I set up the tree while our baby watches us. I place the star on top and kiss Rheda. Her green eyes sparkle.

She bakes Christmas-cookies and I get the mail. Ads and bills. Christmas-cards from friends. And one last envelope. It´s from Kensi Deeks-Blye. I open it. Out comes a happy family picture.

All of them wear Santa-hats. Marty holds their boy, a cute toddler with messy brown locks sticking out under the hat. Kensi has their little girl in her arms. 11 months old and insanely cute. Well not as cute as our baby, but still. My wife sits down on my lap and looks at the picture. "Cute, the baby already looks just like her mom, though she must have those golden locks from her dad."


End file.
